


I Got A Fever of A Hundred and Three

by experimentalwritings



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Betaed by Grammarly, Cunnilingus, F/M, Kitchen Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pool Sex, Strangers Who Bang, Which I Acknowledge is Unrealistic, shrug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:13:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27625904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/experimentalwritings/pseuds/experimentalwritings
Summary: Rey shows up to fix Ben Solo's air conditioning unit.Her shorts end up at the bottom of his pool and when she leaves it's with plans for dinner.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo
Comments: 11
Kudos: 126





	I Got A Fever of A Hundred and Three

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this over the summer and found it recently. Figured I'd post, since I came no where near reaching my lofty 2020 writing goals (since 2020 is THE WORST). I've read a fair bit of Reylo fic but this is my first attempt at writing them, thanks to anyone who gives it a shot!

The first thing Rey notices about the guy who answers the door is that he's _tall_. Tall enough that she stands up straighter, to make the most of her slightly above average height, before introducing herself. "Hi! Poe sent me. I'm here…"

_"You're_ here to fix my AC?"

The second thing she notices? He's kind of surly, managing to pack an impressive amount of disdain into a single sentence.

"Yup!" Rey chirps, hefting her tool belt, jiggling it until metal clinks. 

"You’re Rey?” Less disdain, which Rey counts as a win.

She holds in a long-suffering sigh. “Yes. I’m Rey. Do you want to see ID?”

This guy - Ben something, Poe’s friend of a friend of a friend - isn’t the first person who’s been skeptical in these situations. She could rattle on about her credentials, from how she’d helped her first foster father in his workshop at five, to how she’s one semester shy of graduating with her master’s in mechanical engineering, but it would be pointless.

She’s a woman who looks younger than her 26 years (unless she _really_ cakes on the makeup), so men tend to assume Rey doesn’t know a wrench from a pair of pliers until she proves them wrong.

Which happens to be one of her very favorite things to do.

“It’s fine,” he mutters. “Poe didn’t tell me you were...” Rey decides to assume he’d been about to say “a woman” instead of something less flattering when he doesn’t finish his sentence. “I’m Ben Solo.”

“No worries, want to show me where the outdoor unit is?”

He hesitates for another second before turning, leaving the door open and muttering about how he doesn’t have any better options. Rey follows, reminding herself that she is _not_ going to get offended.

For now.

She’s willing to give the guy a little leeway because having the AC crap out three days into a record-setting heatwave would make most people cranky. But, if this guy turns out to be a shitty tipper, she’s going to get snarky. His home is the kind of nice that has Rey wondering if she should take off her shoes, maybe wash her hands. There are crown moldings and chandeliers. Ben Solo can afford to be generous when she’s helping him out on a holiday weekend.

He disappears before she can finish her debate about shoes; Rey rushes to catch up, allows herself to glare a little, right between his annoyingly broad shoulders.

It might make her a horrible person, but she’s finding a bit of joy in how miserable her newest client appears. She hasn’t decided if he’s attractive or not, probably won’t be able to without some further study (which would probably creep him out). He’s also obviously sweltering in the heat of his house. When he’d opened the door, Rey had been able _feel_ the heavy air emanating from inside, just as hot and humid as it is outside. He’s dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of loose basketball shorts that have seen better days. The shirt is a pristine white (another indicator that this guy has money) and is damp with sweat, plastered to a back that looks firm and well-muscled.

A back that she is _not_ ogling (or wondering how much give it would have under her nails).

Rey’s not usually quick to lust. That she’s going from zero to revved up now, within a couple of seconds, is a clear sign she needs to take some time to, _ahem_ , relax. She won’t have much time once school starts back up and, if she’s so pent up she’s picturing herself under a surly stranger moments into their acquaintance, she needs to do something.

Maybe she’ll let Rose drag her to a club, attempt to go home with someone. Maybe. One-night stands are hit and miss, often not worth the effort.

She might be better off investing in a new vibrator.

Ben glances back at her, and Rey hopes her face is placid, that he can’t catch a glimpse of her inner thoughts.

_That_ would be humiliating.

Ben moves quickly, but Rey manages to glance around. It’s an instinct at this point, to sweep her surroundings, looking for exits and issues. She gets an impression of well-built furniture in dark wood, notices the complete and utter absence of non-neutral colors, knick-knacks, or wall art.

Why rich people like minimalism Rey will never know. She’d schlepped a single battered suitcase to seven different foster homes before she’d aged out. Now that she has her own place, tiny as it is, with its sticky windows and ugly olive appliances, she’s embraced _stuff_ \- fun pillows and soft throws and glorious clutter that’s all hers.

Ben Solo would probably have a heart attack if he spied her dining room table. In the two years since she’d brought it home, she’s never set a plate of food on it. It’s typically buried under her latest projects, pieces of tech, or broken furniture that she’s rescued from the garbage to fix up and sell.

They arrive at a set of sliding glass doors, and Ray lifts her arm, wipes uselessly at the sweat that’s accumulated on her forehead. Rose had brought a handful of cheap, folding paper fans to taco night. Rey had eyed them with disbelief but had quickly caved once Poe and Finn had grabbed one each. She hadn’t been able to resist creating her own breeze. She regrets not bringing one along today; appearances be damned.

She braces herself for the hot sun, follows Ben out onto a spacious deck. Predictably, it’s also tastefully if minimally decorated, the seating area matching the lounges she spies out by the _stunning_ pool.

“Wow, this is amazing. I’d be tempted to dive in the pool and stay there until the heat breaks.”

Ben glances at her, then at the pool, face creased with what Rey would term puzzlement. “I swim every morning. Forty-five minutes before breakfast.”

Well, that explains the shoulders. Rey can’t say _that_ though, and the silence is beginning to make her antsy enough to attempt small talk. “You must throw great parties.”

He turns to face her. “I’ve never attempted to throw one. I have very little desire to have people in my house.”

Okay. Point taken. Ben Solo doesn’t do small talk. Or pleasantries. Rey can take a hint.

She steps in front of him, down the few steps to the grass. Her tone is cold but scrupulously professional when she speaks again. “Where is the unit located?”

There’s a pause, longer than it should be, considering the simplicity of the question, “Left side of the house.”

She mutters a thanks, turns in the correct direction. Ben’s stupid long legs have no issue keeping pace. He doesn’t attempt to strike up a conversation, and Rey doesn’t bother to try again. She avoids looking at him when she crouches next to the air conditioning unit, laying her tools down and extracting an electric screwdriver. She glances up at him, “The power’s off, right?” 

Ben appears offended, “Of course.”

She smiles, falsely, and adopts the annoyingly perky customer service tone that she’s very much looking forward to retiring once she finishes school. “Just checking!”

His mouth opens, but Rey clicks the screwdriver on. It’s powerful and loud, and Ben thinks better of whatever he’d been about to say. Rey does her best to ignore him, making quick work of the necessary screws and prying the air conditioner’s cover off. He helps without having to be asked, and Rey’s eyes are drawn to his hands, noting long, thick fingers and the absence of any ring.

She swallows, mentally berates herself. Nice hands do _not_ make up for a grating personality.

Luckily, there’s something in front of her that needs fixing and focus.

Rey peers inside the AC unit and spots the problem, but it’s a good news/bad news situation. “It’s the thermistor.” She’s mostly been talking to herself, but Ben kneels next to her like he’s interested.

Somehow, even kind of sweaty, he smells _great_.

“What’s that?”

She’s itching to tell him to get out of her bubble because he’s distracting but refrains. Instead, Rey points with the screwdriver, gesturing along the length of the wire. “Also known as a temperature sensor. The end is copper. See how it’s corroded? It must not have been giving the correct temp signals to the control panel, so the unit shut down.”

Given his disbelief when he’d found her at his front door, she expects an interrogation, maybe a little mansplaining, but Ben surprises her. “So, you need to install a new one?”

Rey rises, “Exactly. That should do it. Unfortunately, it’s not a common part. I don’t have one with me. They typically last the life of a unit, so I’ll have to put in an order.”

She braces herself because wealthy men, in Rey’s experience, don’t like to have to wait for things as if they’re on the same level as the rest of the peasants. Again, Ben manages to surprise her. He slumps a bit (but only for a moment; his posture quickly returns to its prior perfection). “How long will that take?”

“What time is it?”

Ben glances at his watch, “It’s nearly 4.”

Shit. Rey pats her back pocket, remembers she’d left her phone charging in her truck. “If I can call in the order before 4, your new thermistor should arrive Tuesday. If not, probably Thursday or Friday. Can I use your phone?”

He’s handing it over before she finishes her sentence. Rey notes his generic phone background, dials quickly, walking a few steps away because she expects a little wheedling will be necessary.

She’s correct. It takes a few minutes to get Mashra to agree to put in the order as she’d claimed to be on her way out the door. Rey spins a little sob story, invents an elderly dog for good measure, and gets assurance that the part will be a rush order.

When she turns to hand Ben his phone back, she finds he’s watching her intently.

Rey’s not sure how she’d questioned his attractiveness because having those dark eyes on her is making her stomach flutter with anticipation that she absolutely should not be feeling.

He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, and when it comes out shiny, Rey sways forward a step without meaning to. “Thank you,” Ben says sincerely.

_Maybe_ he’s not as bad as she’d thought.

Rey shrugs, “I’m not a monster. And you’re Poe’s friend. Figured I couldn’t let you suffer needlessly.”

He inclines his head, a faint smile curling his mouth. “Poe would probably encourage my suffering.”

Huh. A joke? Interesting. “Probably. For his amusement, if nothing else.”

“Do you want a drink?” Ben asks, a little louder than is necessary. His eyes flutter shut like he’s embarrassed, and he runs a hand through his hair. “It seems like the least I can do. I probably should have offered earlier, but my host skills are rusty. Or non-existent, if I’m honest.”

The hint of self-deprecation, piled on top of all his physical charms, does not help Rey’s professionalism even a little bit.

“I’m not a guest; I’m the help.”

He doesn’t seem to like that, shaking his head. “Currently, you’re my hero. Drink?”

Rey takes a moment to consider. On the one hand, this encounter has been more awkward than not. On the other, it's now leaning towards the not. And she’ll have to come back in a few days anyway, so why not see if she can squash any tension now?

And, technically, she’s off the clock at 4:00.

“Sure. Water would be fantastic.”

He appears pleased, nodding towards the pool. “Why don’t you take a seat?”

Not an invite Rey’s going to refuse.

She settles on the edge, under the shade of an umbrella, as Ben darts towards the house. She eases her legs into the cool water with a pleased sigh. She gets a hand wet, swipes over the back of her neck, doesn’t care when water drips down her throat, soaking the edge of her tank top. She can see Ben moving around the kitchen; he hadn’t bothered to close the door, not that she can blame him. It’s almost bearable out here when the sun’s not beating down unrelentingly,

Rey takes a better look around, notes the high fences that line the expansive backyard, the thick rows of trees that hide the neighbors from sight. She can’t hear anything either, no cars from the street or sounds from backyard barbecues. It’s a far cry from her place’s unending noise.

She smiles when Ben returns, genuinely this time, and takes the ice water he offers. Lemon wedges are floating in the glass, and it’s a delightfully cold shock against her hand.

Rey’s tempted to fish out an ice cube and run it along her skin but that’s too obvious of a come-on, one she’s not 100% sure she wants to be making. 

Yet.

She sips the water as Ben sits next to her, tugging up the hems of his shorts slightly. He’s got a nasty scar bisecting one knee, and Rey’s about to ask about it when he blurts out, “I didn’t mean you. Earlier.”

And now she’s confused.

“What?”

“When I said I didn’t want people in my house. I didn’t mean you. You seem... fine.”

That startles a laugh out of her. “Wow. I seem fine? However am I to take such an effusive compliment?” She bumps his shoulder with hers playfully to make it clear that she’s teasing. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who banters.

He remains stiff beside her, staring at the water. “I’m not good at this. Obviously.” Like she’d feared, he seems to be taking her too seriously. “I don’t... you’re more than fine. You’re adept at what you do. Clever and an excellent negotiator. You’re beautiful. That’s why I reacted like I did when I opened the door.”

Rey’s not good at _this_ either. Making friends is hard; the few she has are because of their persistence. Finn, Poe, and Rose had all made themselves at home in her life until she’d gotten used to them and had slowly accepted that they wouldn’t be easily pushed away. Romantic relationships are another story; she’s even less successful at those. Rey had grown up knowing it was entirely pointless to want things; she doesn’t know how to ask for them.

She’s stubbornly independent, refuses to ask for help. She jokes, deflects, retreats when she gets scared. Most people get tired of it.

Unfortunately, she’s never figured out how to break those habits. “I don’t think I even brushed my hair this morning.”

He tosses her a look like she’s crazy, “So? Rey, you are...”

Rey’s not typically impulsive, at least not with people. She hasn’t had the luxury. Even as she sets her glass down and latches on to Ben’s arm, she can’t believe what she’s doing.

Not even when she throws herself into the pool, using her weight and all the force she can muster to yank Ben in with her, cutting off whatever he’d been about to say.

She already wants him so bad, has a sinking feeling that if she lets him talk, the want will grow and creep towards need, something she’s not at all equipped to handle. 

Rey decides that she should act rashly more often because this feels _fantastic_. The cold water washing away her sweat, Ben’s forearm flexing powerfully under her fingertips, the laugh that bubbles from her even as she’s kicking to surface. The pool is deep enough that Rey has to tip her chin back, the water edging towards her mouth as her toes brush the bottom. Ben’s expression is wide-eyed with shock, his full lips parted, and she knows there’s going to have to be some conversation.

First, she’ll make her intentions _very_ clear.

Rey sets a hand on Ben’s shoulder, pushes up. Wrap her legs around his waist and enjoys his shudder when her breasts brush his chest. 

Which is just as firm as she’d anticipated.

With her head safely above water, and Ben’s hands tentatively brushing her thighs (an excellent sign that he’s on board), Rey asks, “Is this okay?”

He nods instantly, “This is incredibly okay.”

She ducks her head, wanting to hide her smile, lips brushing his throat. Ben’s reactions are riveting. She can feel him tensing through the soaked layers they’re wearing, and she tightens her grip on him, pressing as close as she can. One of his big hands slips under her top, his palm spanning most of her lower back. It's rougher than she’d anticipated, and it’s her turn to shiver as his touch glides higher until he cradles the back of her neck. He tugs her closer, his jaw nudging hers. His lips find hers, clumsy at first. He’s tentative at first, but Rey threads her fingers into his hair and tugs, then he sucks in a harsh breath, licking into her mouth.

Ben ceases to be cautious, tasting her with heat and hunger, turning to crowd her against the side of the pool. He kisses her deeply, demandingly, his tongue deft and teasing and never too much. Rey moans in approval, groping at the bottom of Ben’s t-shirt, greedy for the feel of skin. He thwarts her, batting her hands away, and Rey can’t bring herself to pull back to demand he _touch_ her.

Not if it means she has to stop kissing him.

She can’t remember the last time she’d kissed like this, doesn’t know if she’s ever gotten this hot with all of her clothes on. Her hips have started shifting, trying for friction, but she can’t get much, not with the way he has her pinned, legs spread, the flat of his stomach offering nothing to rub against.

Ben keeps his hands to polite-ish areas, but when he _finally_ brushes the side of her breast Rey’s head tips back with a gasp, resting against the edge of the pool. “Ben,” she manages, sounding wrecked and whiny even to her own ears.

He hums, planting a kiss under her ear. “I like how you say my name,” he murmurs. “How you taste. Can I taste more?”

She shifts until her breast nudges his palm. “Please do.”

The noise he makes in return is low, a satisfied rumble that she feels as much as hears. She watches his gaze wander down her body, knows her soaked clothes are hiding little. Her nipples are hard and aching; her stomach quivers with her quick breaths. She can’t feel self-conscious, not with how obviously he appreciates what he’s seeing. “Rey,” he rasps back. “Tell me what you want.”

She moans, laughs a little, “I want so much.”

He pulls back, intrigue clear across his face, and she notices that his irises are a little bit green around the edges. “Oh? Tell me.”

“I thought it was me. But now I think it’s you.”

She’s making zero sense, but Ben doesn’t mind. He lowers his head, licking water from the curve of her shoulder. “I think it’s both of us. I don’t do this.”

Rey nods, arches her back when Ben’s lips trace her neckline, her tank pulled low by the water and their movements, so he’s just brushing the sensitive patch of skin between her breasts. 

When he nips, she jolts, and her want grows urgent, an ache settling deep in her belly. It makes her a little too honest. “Me neither. I had dirty thoughts about you the second I walked inside. I usually just don’t have time for that.”

It's his turn to laugh, a low rough sound that shakes his shoulders. “Tell me,” he says again, this time more insistent, punctuated with a grind of his hips.

Rey recognizes she’s got an opportunity here, and she doesn’t believe in letting those pass her by. She unknots her hands from his shirt, reaches underneath his collar before he can stop her. She drags her nails up his spine, slow, digging in a little deeper when his lashes flutter. “I thought about doing that while you’re inside me.”

His mouth opens over the slope of her breast, teeth tugging lace aside. “My fingers? My tongue?”

She shakes her head, nails digging in when he licks her nipple. “Your… _unh_. Your cock. Though I won’t object to those other options.”

This time the noise Ben makes is a tiny bit feral. His hands clamp around her hips, boosting her up until she’s sitting on the pool’s edge. His thick fingers yank at the button on her shorts.

Rey helps, lifting her hips and wriggling so he can tug the denim and her underwear free from her legs. 

She distantly registers a splash, but Ben’s mouth is on her inner thigh, teeth scraping, probably leaving a mark. He glances up at her just before he switches sides, bites a little harder when she pants. His hand crawls up her stomach, slipping under her bralette until her stiff nipple scrapes his palm. He cups her, his thumb swirling over her nipple lazily, a tease as his mouth climbs higher. She’s growing tenser, muscles tightening, and she moans when his tongue glides over the crease at the top of her thigh. “Wider,” he mutters, and Rey’s thighs spread before she even _decides_ to obey.

His voice has gotten lower, gravelly, and if he didn’t seem so eager to get his mouth between her thighs, she’d want him to keep talking.

Maybe later.

Absently, he praises her, calls her a good girl, and Rey shivers, pressing her lips together to swallow a heavier moan. 

Ben’s brows rise, just a touch, so she knows he’s noted the reaction. His fingers glide through her folds, stroking his open. She wants to squirm, but she can’t be embarrassed not when he whispers, “God, you’re pretty.” 

Ben’s head lowers before she can respond, his tongue following the same path his fingers had traced. 

Except it’s _so_ much better.

His tongue is firmer, direct. He rubs the flat of it over her clit, his thumb pressing and exposing more of her for his mouth before he pulls back slightly to trace wet, maddening circles. His fingers start to play, stroking her entrance, teasing out the slickness that’s begun to gather there. Her body clenches down, but he makes no move to slip inside her. She begins to ache as he toys with her leisurely, licking through her folds and ruthlessly exploiting spots that she reacts to. Rey rests her weight on one hand as her hips begin rolling restlessly. Ben follows her movements, and she winds her hand through his hair to hold him steady so she can rub her clit against his tongue. She sighs, heat blooming, pleasure growing steadily. Ben pinches the nipple in his grasp, and her rhythm stutters, breath hitching. Ben’s mouth latches onto her clit, and he sucks, gentle at first, then harder when her thighs start to shake. Rey slaps a hand over her face to muffle her squeal. He grips her hips, fingertips digging into her ass, holding her steady as she squirms. It’s more than heat now, sharper, almost too much. “Ben,” she gasps, back arching. “Don’t stop, oh god, don’t stop. Faster.” 

“Take what you need, Rey. Help me get you there.”

Her hand covers her other breast, tugging at her nipple, and she strains, falling back against the grass. Ben slides a finger into her, curls it up, and she doesn’t know if it’s luck or skill, but on the second pass, he rubs against her inner walls _so_ perfectly.

“That,” she says, toes curling, “Right there.”

Ben rubs again and again, and her vision goes hazy until she jerks and comes in a rush, shaking through the best orgasm she’s had in ages, her thighs trapping Ben’s head against her.

Not that he seems to mind, groaning, and continuing to lick, prolonging her high.

When she relaxes, he pulls her into the water, and Rey barely notices. She wraps her legs around him, curling her face into his throat as she pants and shudders, mouth pressed to his skin.

When she can focus, the first thing she notices is how _hot_ Ben is, skin burning in a way that has little to do with the weather. He’s barely moving, a solid wall of tension, though his arms are pliant, one gentle hand toying with her messy hair, plucking out blades of grass.

She rolls her head back to look at him, “You don’t have parties.” It comes out a little slurred, but Ben doesn’t seem to notice.

His eyes are dark and needful, confusion creeping in, “No,” he croaks.

She bites his shoulder, and he _shakes_ , a rough sound torn from his throat. “So you don’t have any condoms stashed out here?” She tries for innocent but dips a hand low, to brush against his cock, trapped and straining in his shorts.

Ben’s breath hitches, and she does it again, pressing, _delight_ ed by what she finds. He rubs against her, probably involuntarily, and maybe she’s greedy, but she wants him inside her when he comes.

She’s sure he won’t mind.

Rey pushes away, ducks under the water, and her self-taught breaststroke has her at the stairs quickly. She peels off her shirt before she grasps the rail, tossing it at Ben. “Come show me your bedroom.”

He’s a much better swimmer, plus he has a size advantage, so he’s behind her, crowding her, before she’s halfway up the steps. He scoops her up, and Rey clings for a minute, heart racing before she realizes that he’s moving faster than she could, that he’s not having a bit of trouble carrying her.

She kind of hates the fact that her mind gets a little foggy, imagining the possibilities. She’s never been lifted and fucked against a wall, for example, but maybe Ben could manage it.

Possibly in a semi-public location.

Even if this never happens again, she’s still going to think about it.

Rey doesn’t notice the heat or humidity that’s accumulated in the house this time, maybe because her core temperature is way up. Ben sets her down in the kitchen, leaning forward and scrambling for something on the island. He’s kissing her shoulder, yanking on the strap of her bralette, frantic and uncoordinated. Rey turns, pushing up on her toes to kiss him again.

She’s a little scared of how much she _still_ wants him, likes that he’s just as lost to it.

His hands come up to frame her face, he speaks between kisses, “Bedroom later. Maybe a hotel. So we don’t melt. Or combust. Wallet...”

Rey gets the gist, tears her lips away. “Yes. Okay.”

She doesn’t mean to distract him, but she can’t help it, dragging his soaked shirt up until he takes over. Her hands stroke his newly bared skin reverently, discovering what makes him tense and shiver. She sinks her teeth into his ridiculously defined pec, wanting to leave a mark. He hisses, curses, and her hands grow impatient, exploring his abs, then delving under his waistband.

He’s thick and solid in her hand, somehow hotter than she’d thought possible. Her fingers can’t enclose the base of his cock, and she moans, anticipating how good he’ll feel buried inside her. She wraps both hands around him, stroking in opposite directions, shifting back so she can watch his length pass through her fists.

Ben stumbles a little, leaning heavily on the counter and Rey considers dropping to her knees, thinks she might enjoy the taste of him as he falls apart.

Next time, she decides, since _he’s_ already making plans.

Rey licks her lips, and he groans, scrubbing a shaky hand over his face, “Fuck, you’re killing me.”

He pulls her hands away, and his cock bobs up, resting against his stomach. He takes a deep breath and seems to shake himself, helping her onto a stool before he grabs his wallet, pulling out a foil square then dropping it carelessly.

He gets the condom on quickly, and then he’s wrapping one hand around her left knee, the other resting on the side of her neck. His thumb strokes her racing pulse, “Look at me,” he demands, and Rey tips her chin up, just as he fits the head of his cock to her entrance. She bites her lip, shifts closer, taking him just inside. Her eyes flutter shut, savoring the pressure, the heat, her body greedy for more.

Ben kisses her temple, “Good?” he asks, sinking a little deeper when she nods. He inhales shakily, “You are the best thing I’ve ever felt. Can you do something for me?”

God, there’s not a lot she wouldn’t do for him right now.

“Touch yourself,” he pleads. “Play with your clit, sweetheart. I need this to be good for you.”

She moans brokenly, hand falling between her thighs. She’s sensitive and slick, and another climax begins to build as she traces tight circles. He’s angled his head down to watch, leaning heavily against her, and Rey follows his gaze, gets hotter at the sight of his thick cock slowly but surely disappearing inside of her.

“I couldn’t wait for a bed, though you deserve one. I’m already so close, Rey. You’re incredible. So tight and hot. And wet. For me.”

She whines as his hips _finally_ settle against hers, her stomach contracting because she wants to move, but he’s still, breathing labored. She clenches against his length, and he groans her name, his hands flexing against her skin. “Wait,” he groans. “Wait for me.”

She moans and does her best to relax, figures it's only polite to give him a second. 

Ben straightens after a moment, drawing her leg higher on his hip, somehow getting a little deeper. 

Her fingers start to move again, faster, and rougher. Ben notes the change, eyes gleaming with satisfaction, maybe a hint of relief. “Are you going to come again? For me?”

She nods, whimpers when he finally starts to move in earnest. Withdrawing slowly and then surging back inside of her. They both watch, his cock slicker each time he pulls out. Each thrust ratchets Rey’s need up higher. Her legs cling to his waist; Ben bands an arm around her, protecting Rey from the counter’s edge. Their movements roughen, speed up; Rey feels like she can’t catch her breath.

Ben’s attention stays on her face, watching intently as it twists in pleasure. “That’s it. So good, Rey. I want to feel you come on my cock.” He yanks her hips into his, and she’s so close, a few more passes of her fingers over her clit, then her mouth drops open, and Rey groans, trembling as she comes. “Yes,” he hisses, just before he stiffens and trembles. He’s pretty quiet when he finishes, panting harshly against her shoulder, lips wet and lax.

When Rey can think again, she bites her tongue because “Wow” is probably an immensely stupid thing to say.

His arms loosen, and Ben slips out of her. Rey’s fingers twitch with the urge to drag him closer again. He strips the condom off and disposes of it, eyes flitting between her and the floor. Rey presses her legs together, grimacing a bit as she feels how wet she is, the first pinch of the soreness that will surely come. It’s sobering, and she realizes that the patio door is still open, the room brightly lit by the sun. She shifts, awkward now that reason has returned, and crosses an arm over her chest.

It’s probably too late for modesty

“No, don’t,” Ben says, a hint of pleading in his tone.

She glances up, finds evidence of her struggle on Ben’s face. “I’m not good at this,” he says again, his hands gesturing vaguely. 

“Oh, you’re pretty good at it,” Rey replies, then cringes. Ben’s skin, already a little flushed, reddens further.

“No, I…” he stutters, falls silent but stays several feet away. His shorts had only been pushed down in their haste, and he rights them.

Not promising.

Rey’s well-honed instinct to make the best of a bad situation is screaming at her to _do_ something. She begins plotting an exit (one that involves stealing whatever towels she can find and possibly slipping out a window), but Ben’s next proclamation, said in a rush, stops her.

“I want to be good at more than this. With you.”

Oh. 

She’s shocked at how much relief she feels. Rey can definitely work with that.

“Okay.” She makes an effort not to smile too brightly, even if they’re way beyond any attempt to play cool or coy. “Want to start with dinner? We’ll have to go to mine so I can change first.

Since her shorts are somewhere at the bottom of his pool.

Ben relaxes, had apparently been holding his breath, it spills out of him in an audible whoosh. “ _Yes_. I mean, I’d like that. A lot.”

“Excellent,” Rey chirps, when he still seems to be processing.

Ben jolts into action, shaking his head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…” He leaves the room without finishing his thought, returning with several options for Rey to choose from.

They get Italian. Rey makes a terrible joke (technically several terrible jokes) about carb-loading for energy.

They spend the weekend at her place since it’s not an oven. Ben attempts to tidy until she distracts him, doesn’t believe that she has a system.

The part for his AC comes in. Rey installs it. When his house is _finally_ cool he spreads her out on his bed, though he’s quite content when she urges him to roll, gazing up at her in wonder as she slowly sinks on to his cock. In the morning, Ben wakes Rey with his tongue on her clit. He _almost_ convinces her to call in sick to work.

She’s back a few days later, this time after they’d gone to a movie, one with big explosions and awful dialogue. Ben had hated every moment of it, while Rey had been thoroughly entertained.

They bicker and fall asleep, and when they wake up in the wee hours of the morning, she tells him about her third foster father. The one that had snuck her into see blockbusters at the theater he’d managed on Sunday mornings. He tells her about his Uncle Luke, who’d thought the only movies worth watching included subtitles.

Later, when Rey starts calling Ben her boyfriend, Poe takes way too much credit for introducing them.


End file.
